Bound to the Elvin King (2 page)

A shiver wound its way up Maggie’s back. “Yeah, I know what you mean. With the weakening magic and the prophecy we found, I sometimes wonder if we’ll ever see home again.” The mist veil, a materialization of Eria’s magic and what separated the fey world from Earth, was the means that had bought them to Eria, and was erratic on the best of days.

Doubt chipped away at Maggie’s hope like a woodpecker. She couldn’t explain why, but she couldn’t see her being back in her own world permanently. Call it intuition. The feeling rarely led her wrong. She had never wanted to be more wrong about something.

But then Maggie remembered something and smiled. “At least there’s one positive. If and when we return home, not much time should’ve elapsed in Wisconsin.”

Sympathy cast shadows on Cal’s face. “Yes, but this is home, at least for me. Even if the veil can open a rift between dimensions, my place is now by Relian.”

Maggie’s grin faded at that reminder. If they did go home, Cal would have to come back to Eria, while Maggie would probably be able to stay on Earth indefinitely since nothing tied her to the elvin world. That prospect sucked almost as much as staying in Eria.

Forcing her mind to happier matters, Maggie asked, “So, what are we doing today?”

Cal placed a finger to her chin. “Mmm, talking? Playing our instruments? We haven’t done it for a long time. Last but not least, Arrein gave me something that is the Erian equivalent to nail polish.”

“Basically goofing around?” Maggie liked the sound of this—and the idea of nail polish. Cal had the best maid ever, though Maggie’s maid Vana was pretty awesome.

“I guess I’d call it that.”

Some fun to take her mind off her problems? She’d take that. Maggie rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get started, then.”

***

Maggie stalked around the garden. She’d had a great time with Cal yesterday, but now the restlessness haunting most of her waking hours consumed her.
He
itched at her mind like a rash that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much Maggie ignored him.

The palace’s gardens usually calmed her, but today their carefully manicured wildness failed to work its magic. Not even the elegant marble statues and fountains housed in the green space could entice a smile from her. A gray flower—the color of his eyes, damn it—swayed in the wind and seemed to wink at her. Taunting her, just like he did. Racing over to the offending bloom, she ripped it out of the ground.

As she glared at the Erian fall flower, she crushed it in her hand and pretended it was Talion. It didn’t help.

Her nose twitched. The mass of mangled petals had released a heady scent that wafted up her nostrils like a bothersome insect. Maggie swiped at the itch. Stupid allergies…and stupid Talion flower for taking her down into scratching hell. She knew better than to trust anything that resembled him, even a fricking blossom.

A growl worked its way up her throat. She couldn’t hold still. This restlessness unsettled her. She didn’t have a purpose here. Cal was often busy with all things Relian—and by extension, all things elvin ever since the bonding three weeks ago that made her a real-life princess.

With a sigh, Maggie sat on a stone bench. Studying, reading, and going for walks could only occupy so much of her day. Sure, she had Kenhel and Avrin. They couldn’t be with her at all moments, though. Both had responsibilities to their king and the Erian people.

The king. Talion. Why must everything come back to him?

She frowned until another thought pushed away the previous one. Avrin might have a few hours free right now, if she weren’t mistaken. Even though he was the king’s advisor, that elf knew how to have fun. So proper and lordly on the surface, but that was all a façade, a wickedly misleading one.

As for Kenhel, he reminded her of a younger Avrin—one who couldn’t be bothered to shine and gloss his sophistication. There was no one quite like him in Eria. Not that she’d really know, because she’d never been beyond its capital’s walls. That he was commander of the king’s guard seemed somewhat frightening. He didn’t appear big on responsibility. Both were elves after her own heart, and she desperately needed them in her life. Avrin and Kenhel were the other peas in her demented pod.

Still, a certain disquiet hung over her. She stretched her tense shoulders, trying to dislodge a niggling sense playing along her spine like a frigid chill from a Wisconsin winter. Something was looming, waiting to flood down upon her. This tension couldn’t be for nothing. She waited for the barrage, though she didn’t know what form it would take.

It was coming, whether she was ready or not. Goosebumps popped up on her arms, and she rubbed them through the long sleeves of her gown.

She lurched to her feet. This feeling was making her crazy. She’d never had dreams or visions of Eria as Cal had from a young age. So, why should she now have a sense of something momentous waiting for her? That had always been Cal’s destiny, not hers.

A meow sliced through her thoughts and drew her attention to a black and white cat padding across one of the garden paths. An orange collar circled its neck, and a faceted crystal hung from the leather. Fancy bauble for a cat. Must be someone’s pet. She bent down and held out her hand. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

The cat paused and flicked its tail before it gazed at her with haughty yellow eyes. Its arrogance seemed almost palpable. “Must be an elvish cat.” But then, this would make most cats elvish, even the ones back home, which surely wasn’t possible. Undoubtedly, it was one corrupted by Talion’s influence. He charmed all the cats she’d come across. Grr, how she hated him and his smugness.

Maggie dropped her hand to her side after the cat made no effort to come near her. “Stuck up cat.” She headed back to her room before the formal dinner in the great hall. At least her friends would be there.

A few tendrils of hair blew across her face. She raked them behind her ear and sighed as tangles impeded her progress. How could straight hair knot so easily? She drew a length forward and eyed it. She hadn’t had a trim since she’d arrived in Eria. Her boring brown hair now hit mid back. Maybe Vana, her maid, could do something about that. With any luck, the maid would be waiting to help her get ready.

After she took a few steps to head inside, the cat decided it wanted to be social and threaded around her legs. Maggie huffed out a sigh. “Cat, let me move.”

The little fur ball rubbed against her leg one last time before streaking off into a bush. Maggie shook her head and headed back toward the palace. “Crazy feline.”

***

Meals in the airy great hall were always a social occasion. Normally, Maggie enjoyed that hub of activity and chatter. The king’s impending arrival, along with her growing anxiety, caused enjoyment to flutter right out the enchanted window like a butterfly.

Speaking of the pain-in-the-ass. His presence buzzed through her like an alarm. She groaned and sank down into her seat. A look showed him in all his smug glory—smug, handsome— No. A shudder racked her.

“What is it, my sweet?”

She forced a smile to her face and turned to Avrin, who sat across from her. “Nothing. Just saw something unpalatable.”

The king’s advisor raised a brown brow. “The servants haven’t brought the food yet.”

Shit.
“The smell of the food? Yeah, that’s it.”

He took a deliberate sniff of air. “I don’t smell anything unpleasant.”

“Trust me, I do.”

He shook his head. “I’ll never understand you. But it only makes you more alluring.”

Her saucy reply died upon her lips when Talion’s dreaded velvet voice interrupted from behind her. “Are you flirting with the human again, Avrin?”

She growled under her breath. The King of Asses butted in once again. Unfortunately, the head table was
his
table. If it weren’t for her friends, she’d sit elsewhere, but she didn’t want to be separated from Avrin, Kenhel, Cal, and Relian. The happy newly-weds had yet to show, though. Damn them. And Kenhel must still be tied up by his commander duties.

Avrin sent her a wicked glance before turning his gaze to the Erian king. “Of course. I find human women very fascinating.”

Talion snorted. “What other one is there to flirt with, my friend?”

She stiffened at his implication that no one would give her any notice if there were any other single humans around. He could take the insult and shove it up his elvin— His taunting voice cut into her thoughts.

“Nothing to say?”

“Oh, I have a lot to say. But none of it’s appropriate to say in public, especially to a person of your
esteemed
station.”

He chuckled and leaned down. His breath fanned against the sensitive skin behind her ear. “How about you take me to task in a more private locale?”

She froze as a shiver swept across her shoulders and down her back. Ignoring the funny feeling, she concentrated on the suspicion blooming in her mind. What fricking game was he playing now? Taking a deep breath, she turned to catch a glimpse of his face. Bad idea. His eyes glowed with a mocking light that highlighted the attractive laugh lines branching from them. All in all, he looked delicious.
Oh hell, no.
She wasn’t going there. “Not on your life, King Tut.”

“Who is this illustrious king you keep comparing me to? I think you have quite an obsession with him.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and faced the table again. “He’s a king who has long been dead and buried. That’s the whole point.”

“Ah, so you’re making light of my age?”

“What do you think?”

His eyes became hooded. “I think you’re a young girl who has to be taken in hand.”

The possible sexual implications of his words swept heat over her body. She gave an inner eye roll. Yeah, like he meant it that way. Bastard probably thought about it quite differently. He often made her feel like a gauche, clueless child, and enjoyed putting her in her place. This didn’t exactly shout lust. “God, you’re not my father.”

“I never said I wanted to be.”

Her breath stilled. His words—they were the heaven she’d been waiting for—and the hell. She hated him, didn’t she? Yet, he filled every corner of her mind.
God, give me some fungicide.
He seeped through her skin, flooding every pore with his presence.

To him, this was all a game. He reveled in continually taunting and poking at her until she hissed like a cat. “It’s a good thing we’re not related. Can you think of anything worse?”

A contemplative look spread over his face, and his gaze swept over her. “Indeed not. We wouldn’t want that.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to see through the mocking façade. Why could she never tell if he was kidding? He made her feel so…out of control. The jerk.

“Father, leave Maggie alone.”

At Relian’s voice, Talion straightened. A sigh of relief escaped her, but she quickly masked it. “Yeah, what excellent advice. Listen to your son. Be a good elf and sit down.”

Talion stared down at her from his considerable height. “Mmm, I’m
always
good, which I think you’ll find out when we continue this discussion later.”

Her heart threatened to stop, while her throat strangled any retort wanting to spill out. Frustration and desire built within her until she felt like a malfunctioning boiler about to explode. She hated him—absolutely hated him.

Cal slid into the empty seat beside her and patted her shoulder before whispering, “Just ignore him. He’s only trying to get a rise out of you because he knows you’ll give him one.”

Maggie finished counting to ten. “You’re probably right, but I still want to pound his face in. Or cut all that shiny gold hair.” She glared at Talion, who stood at the next table talking to an advisor or courtier. Oh yeah, his hair would be history.

Cal gave a brisk tsk. “Oh, don’t even think about it. An elvin man’s crowning glory is his hair. Don’t give him reason to drag out the heavy artillery.”

Maggie snorted. “Bring it on.”

“Let’s not. I want to live in peace.”

“You’re no fun, Cal.”

“Someone’s got to be the responsible one. It’s certainly not you.”

Maggie picked up her wineglass and chugged down its contents. “Whatever makes you say that? I’m the soul of responsibility.”

Cal stared at the glass in Maggie’s hand. “Yeah, right. Tell that to the alcohol.”

“Pssh, it’s harmless.”

“Whatever you say.”

The doubt in Cal’s voice caused Maggie to glare at her and reach for the bottle of wine setting on the table. Avrin’s voice stopped her.

“You two are flint and tinder. The combustion is quite memorable. He’s normally courteous, but you seem to bring out the—”

“The bastard in him?”

He blinked, but it was the only hint of surprise he showed. “I guess this would be an apt description. Not that I would call his esteemed majesty any such name.”

Relian snorted from his seat next to Cal. “Maybe not in public, but behind closed doors, I’ve heard you say worse to my father’s face.”

“Ah, are you talking about me again, Avrin?” The king eased down onto his chair at the head of the table. His blue tunic stretched across broad shoulders. A silver chain at his throat highlighted the strong column of his neck.